


Risky Business

by ghostchibi



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimitri and also an oc show up in ch2 for a bit as well, I got hit by the sylfelix train and I haven't even bought the damn game, I haven't even watched a single playthrough video!, M/M, Mercedes is here for like 0.3 seconds, Post-Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), mild description of injuries and such, oc returns with ch3 too, oh also Byleth's here just to tell Sylvain not to do stupid things and gets ignored, sorry byleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-09-23 06:48:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20335861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostchibi/pseuds/ghostchibi
Summary: Two men of the Faerghus royal army regularly make panicked, split-second decisions to save each other's lives. They are not particularly smart decisions, but there is no reason not to risk it all for each other.(or, Sylvain and Felix take turns saving each other's asses by pulling risky moves because they're worth it, dammit)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> all aboard the sylfelix train toot toot
> 
> I got smacked with sylfelix feelings on twitter so I smashed this out in the ao3 work text input field in 2 hours and posted it immediately without rereading it. uhhhhhhhh this isn't pre-relationship but it technically is since they haven't really talked about it yet at this point in the story? I don't know it's 11 pm don't ask me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain makes a split-second decision during a fight, Felix is... not actually as angry as Sylvain thought he'd be about it.

As far as taking risks in a fight go, Sylvain doesn't particularly gun for them. He likes to imagine that he's the badass, reckless cavalry unit that charges in through the sound of galloping hooves and sharp whinnies, but at the end of the day he listens to what his professor tells him and doesn't do anything overly excessive. Being reckless doesn't just put him in danger, it puts others in danger as well, and Sylvain doesn't like that thought very much. No overextending, no rushing in, no dramatic maneuvers. Stay where he's needed, go when he's needed elsewhere.

Right now, he's needed elsewhere. Never mind the fact that Professor Byleth has just yelled at Sylvain not do to exactly what he's in the middle of doing, but he's desperately needed elsewhere right now. He lets out a sharp shout and orders his horse forward. She breaks into a gallop, and Sylvain readies his scythe.

Across the battlefield, Felix has been knocked down to the grass. A knight on horseback stands above him, lance held high, aimed directly at Felix. He's swiping at the horse's legs to keep it from trampling him and to prevent the knight from getting in close enough range to stab him, but he's already injured, bleeding from a wound on his lower left ribs, and no other unit is within range to assist in time. Technically, Sylvain isn't either, but he'll be damned if he'll let something like the limitations of movement speed get in the way.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" Sylvain roars with a voice he didn't even know he had; there's a shockingly snarling quality to it that breaks through his chest and erupts from his lungs, and even Felix jolts at the noise. It doesn't break his concentration though, and he swings his sword once more to drive the horse back as he struggles to his feet.

Sylvain isn't going to get there in time. There's still far too much ground to cover, and Felix isn't able to escape. Even with the distraction, Felix is a much more prioritized target; one less skilled swordsman on the field today means one less skilled swordsman to deal with in the next fight. The knight's lance has a decent range to it, one that Felix is just barely avoiding by driving the horse back, but one mis-swing and Felix is either going to be gored or trampled to death.

Sylvain full well expects to be dead by the end of this, because either his head is going to roll across the grass fucking it up, or Felix is going to throttle him so hard that his head pops off.

He readies his scythe, in both hands, pulled back in preparation for a swing. He's still too far away to hit, but he stands up in his stirrups anyway, somehow managing to keep his balance.

"I SAID, _GET AWAY FROM HIM!_"

He does not reach Felix in time. What does reach, however, is his scythe.

Letting your hands off of your main weapon in the heat of battle is one of the least intelligent things one can do. Sylvain, however, has never boasted of being particularly smart or logical. He has a sword on him but it's strapped to his side, requiring him to reach for it. He isn't quite as good at swordfighting as he is working with his scythe, either. And yet here he is, standing up on his horse moving at a full gallop, throwing his scythe as hard as he can at an enemy knight.

Byleth did always say that surprise was the most powerful weapon in a fighter's repertoire. It certainly comes as a surprise to the enemy knight, who barely has enough time to block the incoming blade that smashes into them and their horse. The horse lets out a noise almost like a scream as it falls, sending the knight sprawling into the dirt and Sylvain's scythe pinning them to the ground underneath the blade and handle. Felix recovers faster from his shock, and a quick movement forward and one thrust of his sword is all it takes to dispatch the knight.

Sylvain's horse ends up overshooting from being unable to slow down in time to meet Felix, and Sylvain has to loop it back around so he can retrieve his scythe. It's jammed rather firmly into the earth, but he doesn't have to dismount in order to yank it out.

"What the fuck was that," Felix asks him, looking rather dazed and in pain.

"Split-second panic," Sylvain admits. "C'mon, get on."

Felix doesn't say anything else, simply taking Sylvain's outstretched hand so that he can climb up. He groans in pain once he's settled, likely an issue with his leg. It doesn't look broken, but they'll need Mercedes to determine that for certain.

Byleth rushes to meet them once Sylvain has retreated back to the back line of the Kingdom forces. Sylvain almost falls off of his horse in his rush to dismount. Felix, however, does; he tips sideways, and Sylvain has to catch him before he hits the ground and breaks a shoulder or his neck.

Finally, a chance to actually inspect Felix. There's dirt all over his face and in his hair from taking a tumble in the grass. His left jaw is starting to swell angrily, and Sylvain worries for a moment that it might be broken. His light armor has gouges in it from heavier weaponry that it's not meant to defend against taking swings at him, and the stain of blood at his ribs has grown larger in the time it had taken them to get back to safety. Felix presses his hand against that wound suddenly as if remembering its existence. He shakes from pain, blood loss, agitation, and Sylvain holds him tight with one arm around his waist to keep him upright.

Felix isn't doing well. He hasn't made any snippy comments ever since the first one before he had climbed on. The swelling in his jaw seems to be preventing him from talking out of pain, but even his gaze is unfocused and wandering.

"Hey, buddy, c'mon. Stay with me," Sylvain says, lifting one of Felix's arms so that he can drape it over his shoulder to keep Felix upright a little better. "Let's go get Mercey, she'll patch you up."

* * *

Felix doesn't say or react to anything other than the occasional flinch while he's being healed. At least that's what Sylvain hears from Mercedes after the battle is done. Sylvain had dropped Felix off with Mercedes and headed back out to the battle to retake his position, because fights don't stop for injured loved ones no matter how badly he had wanted to remain by Felix's side. He helps retrieve the injured and dead by hauling soldiers back to camp alongside a stricken Ashe, cleans the blood off of the younger man's hands and face when he doesn't react to Sylvain's suggestion to do so, receives a reprimand from Byleth for taking off against orders and a compliment for the impressive toss of a rather heavy weapon, and then finally is able to find his way to Mercedes.

"I healed his jaw, so he may be more talkative now," she tells Sylvain, and he hears the warning loud and clear. He may be in for quite the snarling and snapping, but he's come to expect that out of Felix.

"Everything else about him okay?"

"His leg is broken, but it's a difficult break. I healed it as best as I could, but it will need some time to heal on its own as well."

"Bedrest? I'm sure he was happy to hear that."

"I think he was too dizzy to fully understand what I was telling him. Could you remind him for me, just in case?"

"Mercey, you're sending me into the lion's den here with an armful of raw meat."

Mercedes gives Sylvain a look that suggests that she doesn't quite agree with the sentiment. Sylvain only shrugs in response.

He finds Felix sitting up in bed, holding his left hand in his right. His thumb presses into his palm, and he wears an expression on his face as if focusing on something.

"Need that looked at too?" Sylvain asks, and Felix's head immediately swivels to look at him. He doesn't look... well, he doesn't look very much like anything. Sylvain can't read the emotion on Felix's face now. He's expecting anger or annoyance, a snap of "what kind of fool maneuver was that?" or "I can't believe you would do that," but he's met with absolutely no reaction whatsoever.

"Felix?"

"Come here."

Sylvain does as he's told, although Felix's lack of emotion is starting to worry him. As soon as Sylvain approaches the bed and is within arm's length of Felix, Felix grabs him by the wrist and yanks him in.

"Hey!"

Felix drags him in so that Sylvain has both hands braced on the cot at an awkward angle on either side of Felix's hips. He's trying not to fall on top of his freshly-healed and still-injured friend, but Felix is making that difficult.

"What's gotten into you?" Sylvain asks.

"Why did you do that?"

Well, there's the question of the day. Sylvain pouts, although it's less for show and is more of an actual show of unhappiness.

"Listen, I know you're gonna say it was stupid, and maybe it was, but I couldn't just leave you ly-"

"I never said it was stupid."

Still unreadable, still oddly emotionless. Felix reaches up with one hand and grabs the front of Sylvain's tunic, as if to hold him there.

"Why did you do that?" Felix repeats.

"...because you were in danger."

"You left yourself open to danger."

"Yeah, I know."

"You came without backup."

"I'm well aware."

"You threw your scythe," Felix states, in a complete deadpan, before a split second later his face breaks into a deep, amused grin.

"I, uh, yeah, I did," Sylvain laughs nervously. He's not used to Felix reacting to his very bad split-second decisions with amusement. What's going on here? "Did you hit your head or something?"

"Yes, I did," Felix chuckles, and tugs on Sylvain's front a little more. He has to catch himself on Felix's shoulders to avoid collapsing on top of Felix entirely because he's run out of arm length to prop himself up on the cot. "I have a concussion."

"Ouch."

"Yes, it does hurt."

Felix leans his head in; his forehead bumps against Sylvain's, and when did their faces get so close? Was Felix's other hand at the nape of Sylvain's neck this whole time?

"Thank you for helping me," Felix sighs. His breath fans out warmly against Sylvain's face. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Goddess, Felix, of course. Of course I would help you. You don't have to thank me for that."

"But I want to."

Both of Felix's arms drape over Sylvain's shoulders, and he's pulled in for a hug. Concussion or not, this is definitely weird behavior coming from Felix.

"...are you sure you're okay?"

The hug suddenly gets a little tighter.

"That was a stupid thing you did."

And there's the usual Felix that Sylvain is used to.

"Yeah, I know it was, but it was worth it," Sylvain replies. He braces his hip against the side of the cot and hugs Felix awkwardly. "And neither of us died."

"...true."

"You're not going to yell at me?"

"I'm too tired."

"Oh, so this is temporary. Damn, and I was getting used to it too."

"Hush," Felix tells him, and then pulls away just far enough so that he can press a kiss to Sylvain's cheek.

That's the... second or third time he's done that. Sylvain's face burns with the spreading blush, and he blinks at Felix. Felix's eyes are starting to droop from the exhaustion he was talking about.

"That's not the concussion," Felix tells him.

"Yeah, they usually don't make you kiss your friend," Sylvain agrees.

"_Friend_," Felix mutters amusedly. "Right."

"Nuh-uh, we're not having that conversation right here, and not while you're concussed either. Go give your brain and your leg a break. Or, maybe not a break, since your leg already has one of those-"

Felix chooses to retaliate for the truly horrendous joke by pressing a kiss to the corner of Sylvain's mouth, shutting him up for good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix repays Sylvain's risky kindness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was anyone gonna tell me that the fe3h fandom on ao3 is absolutely massive or was I supposed to find that out from amassing 100+ kudos under 24 hours on a badly written one shot
> 
> hoo-wee lads, I was not expecting that in the slightest. part of it from my latest fandom I wrote fics for being tiny as hell, and part of it from just not being used to getting kudos or comments at all in other fandoms I'm in. did you guys know this fic is my second-highest kudo'd fic now? it's been up for literally 24 hours. the fic it beat out is a fallout 4 pwp from three and a half years ago. [rtgame voice] what in the fucking hell. tyvm to everyone who left kudos and comments, I really appreciate it
> 
> anyway, I tossed an oc into this chapter because I felt like it and also because I didn't want to subject Mercedes to these two doing This Shit Again. if you've taken a gander at Violet Skies, he's gonna be the lord character in it. I put that fic on hold temporarily while I get ref sheets for all the ocs that aren't mine, and I need to get a grasp on actually writing Celeste rather than just talking about him. also Byleth uses xe/xem, it'll probably become my default pronoun use for Byleth

Felix is not the type to take risks without reason, but boy, is this a reason for it.

His reason for moving alone much of the time is because it affords greater freedom in a fight; he doesn't have to worry about potentially hitting any allies, and every outward swing can be as hard and punishing as he likes when the only person worth worrying about is himself. He has difficulty adjusting to fighting alongside others, and while the professor dislikes leaving him alone, xe's accepted it as Felix's most optimal combat style. However, Felix is not oblivious to the occurrences around him as he fights; he keeps an eye on nearby units, tossing out vulneraries and catching allies by the arm for a quick heal as they retreat to ensure that they last long enough to get back to safety. The corners of his vision are no blind spot to Felix, and he's become a master of catching sight of things out of his immediate gaze from years of practice.

He doesn't see the moment that Sylvain falls from his horse, but he does watch in horror as Sylvain is lifted off of the ground by a wyvern's claws. At first Felix doesn't understand what's going on. Sylvain is heavily armored, too heavy for a wyvern to carry him very high off of the ground without tiring itself out anyway, and too strong for its claws to cause any meaningful damage. That is, until he sees the enemy wyvern lord's face etched in a cruel grin, the panic in Sylvain's eyes as his assailant's mouth moves. Ice-cold terror fills Felix's veins, and his heart plummets into his stomach as Sylvain's body does the same toward the ground.

Sylvain tries to grab for the wyvern's legs as the claws open. He doesn't reach, and even if he had, he would have likely just been shaken off and dropped like a boulder. Felix takes off in Sylvain's direction, already fatigued from darting around but he can't worry about that now. He stumbles once as his foot lands on uneven terrain and he almost takes a tumble, but catches himself with his hands and pushes forward almost like a war dog pressing forward on all fours.

He doesn't really know what he's going to do when he gets to his destination. Sylvain is heavy in his armor, and it isn't as if Felix is well armored enough to be catching anything falling from that height, much less a knight. But if Sylvain hits the ground as he is now, there's no way for him to catch himself. It would be a miracle if he didn't break his spine or his neck. Felix is probably going to break a few bones himself if he actually tries to catch Sylvain. Bones be damned; he can either let Sylvain fall to his death, or the both of them can be heavily injured but alive.

Or maybe they'll both die. At least they'll die together.

"SYLVAIN!" Felix shouts, and Sylvain's head is tilted sideways just enough that Felix can see his terrified expression. Moment of truth, Fraldarius. Will you keep running and catch your friend, or will you avoid being crushed underneath him as he falls?

It never really was a question to begin with. Felix wouldn't have started running if there was ever a doubt in his mind.

The impact hurts. Felix doesn't pay attention to it, just tries his damnedest to brace himself for the weight that collides with him and sends him crashing to the ground. The thing about impacts is that the best way to avoid the brunt of it is to redirect the energy elsewhere, Byleth had taught him, but there's nowhere else to send this force. His knees buckle, and Felix goes down with Sylvain all the same, as if he made no difference at all.

Felix fully expects to be dead under Sylvain's weight. What he doesn't expect is to be in significant pain that starts to ebb almost immediately.

"Oh, you are such a fucking **_idiot_**," he hears from behind, and when he moves to gently roll Sylvain off of him, he realizes that there's holy magic encasing the two of him. Sylvain had indeed landed squarely on top of Felix, and both of them had definitely collided into the ground from the force of the fall, but they had not smashed themselves into a pile of bloody broken bones.

They have Celeste to thank for that. The healer-dancer stands a few feet behind them when Felix looks, sweat dripping down his brow, arms frozen in their last pose as he had fired off a spell in their direction. Felix isn't sure exactly what kind of spell had just saved them both from a high-impact death, and quite frankly he doesn't care. All he cares about is Sylvain, who is groaning in pain but moving all of his limbs and seemingly still aware.

"Shit... Felix?" Sylvain asks, dazed, and Felix doesn't answer him. He's still trying to process the fact that both of them are alive.

"Get up, both of you!" Celeste snaps, breaking them both out of their respective reveries. Felix scrambles onto his somehow unbroken feet, hauling Sylvain up as well. He looks like he doesn't know where he is, which might simply be shock from not having died or an actual head injury. Celeste grabs Sylvain's other arm to get him upright properly, and when a volley of arrows lands directly behind them and snags one of Celeste's sleeves, he shoves the two of them forward to get them moving.

The three of them make a mad dash for safety on foot; the Kingdom's forces are retreating, too overwhelmed by the Imperial army to hold their position. Felix sees a fallen Annette as they run, and he grabs her wrist and manages to get her back to her feet. Celeste hefts her up in a one-armed carry (when did he get the strength to do that?), and she locks her ankles around his hip and holds on for dear life as Celeste continues to yank Felix forward by the wrist. Felix's other hand has a tight grip on Sylvain's gloved hand.

It would be terrifying if Felix could stop long enough to gather his wits and actually feel anything. Instead, he frees his hand from Celeste and raises his shield above his head to block any more incoming arrows. They run, and run, and run, until the sound of battle has stopped ringing in Felix's ears, and Felix is allowed to fall knees-first into the dirt.

* * *

"You're almost as good as new," Celeste tells him, finishing the last of the healing that he's capable of. His hair is tied back and completely out of his face, revealing the white-clouded blind eye he usually keeps hidden under his hair.

"Is this something that will take time to heal?" Felix asks him, wincing as he moves his right shoulder. Apparently it had been wrenched from the socket when he had caught Sylvain, not that Felix had even felt that at the time. The upper arm bone connected to his shoulder joint had also broken in what Celeste had called a hairline fracture, compounding onto the pain he had later felt hit him all at once after their retreat.

"No, it's usually healable with magic."

"Why didn't you heal me with magic, then?"

"Because I am about to fall over," Celeste says, leaning heavily against the medical table set up next to the chair Felix sits on. "I'm serious. That impact-breaking spell was an experiment and a half and I definitely overtaxed myself casting it."

Felix shrinks back a little into himself in guilt. While primarily a healer, Celeste's curiosity had led him to begin testing out different spells, many of them of his own creation. The one that had kept Felix and Sylvain from dying earlier must have been one of those. Highly unrefined, and definitely not battlefield-ready.

"I... I'm sorry," Felix says. "I wasn't..."

"Thinking? Yeah, I don't do that sometimes too," Celeste laughs, and despite his exhaustion he manages an honest smile at Felix. "You've even seen me not do that before."

It's one of the reasons Celeste makes Felix nervous. He's probably the weakest fighter out of all of Felix's former classmates, and yet he rushes across the field to heal units in danger or block blows himself. Felix had initially attributed it to recklessness, but hearing Celeste gasp out _it's what healers **do**_in response Felix's demand of why he would take arrows to the shoulder just to heal Felix had changed that perception. Especially after realizing that it was exactly the same reason that Felix tossed himself into danger to make sure Sylvain would live through another fight.

"I'll let you rest," Felix replies, sliding off of the stool and gingerly touching his elbow. He'll see Mercedes about getting the residual ache treated. Celeste waves tiredly, but calls out his name before he can exit the tent fully.

"You and Sylvain owe me one!" he says.

"We've already pledged quite a bit to you," Felix replies. "What else could you want?"

"Less dying!"

...a fair point.

Felix sets out to find Sylvain, who had been hauled off in a different direction earlier. It doesn't take long to find him; he's talking to a healer, and at first Felix thinks he's flirting again. But upon closer inspection they're having an earnest discussion, and Sylvain almost looks frantic.

"Yeah, but- oh." Sylvain cuts off immediately the moment he sees Felix approach. "I was. Um. Looking for you."

"You've found me," Felix replies, gesturing with his palms up before remembering that his entire right arm is in a bit of a precarious situation. It reminds him without fail with the jolt of a sharp pain, and he squeezes his eyes shut with a muttered swear.

"Felix, are you okay? Didn't you get to a healer already?" Sylvain's voice is oh-so-very worried, and when Felix opens his eyes again he sees the matching expression. Sylvain's hand is on his left hip, ready to catch him if needed.

"I thought it would be a poor apology to Celeste if I asked him to overexert himself twice in one day for my sake," Felix replies. "The worst of it is healed."

The mention of their healer friend seems to remind Sylvain of the events of earlier, and he flinches minutely. Not enough to be visible, but Felix can feel the movement in Sylvain's hand on him.

"...you could have died doing that."

"I know. I wasn't... I wasn't thinking. I saw you falling, and... I panicked. Badly."

Felix is honest. There's no reason to hide it from Sylvain, and no way to hide it either. Trying to catch a fully-armored knight falling out of the sky is not the smartest of decisions, and definitely not the sort of action one takes if prioritizing self-preservation.

But it had been to protect Sylvain. And despite the castigating he had received from Celeste, the one single unexpected praise he had received had been an admittance that had Felix not caught ("caught") Sylvain, Sylvain likely would have had much worse injuries than either of them even with the impact-deflecting spell. It had been worth it in the end, but it was always worth it for Felix to reach out and come to Sylvain's aid. It was worth it for the simple reason that it was Sylvain.

"Guess we're just a panicky pair, huh?" Sylvain asks, and there's a lilt of laughter to his voice that makes Felix's heart warm like the feeling of another's hand pressed against one's shoulder, body heat spreading between them.

"Don't start," Felix warns him, but takes a step closer so that he can lean in and rest his head on Sylvain's shoulder.

It's highly uncharacteristic of him to be doing this. It's certainly shocked his friends, shocked Sylvain, that his usual sharp, cold exterior is rapidly dissolving as of late. Felix isn't sure if it's exhaustion that's sapping him of the energy to maintain the walls he's spent years holding up, or if the walls themselves are actually starting to crumble. But there have been some changes in his life, things that are going in slightly better directions despite the fact that he's fighting in the middle of a continent-spanning war. He can actually talk to Dimitri again. His father hasn't uttered a single word about valor whenever the inevitable subject of death appears. He's heartsick about fighting people who he once had what could be called a friendship with, and he's constantly fighting battles with the weight of the entire nation on his shoulders. And yet,

And yet.

Sylvain puts one hand at the nape of Felix's neck, and not everything feels so awful after all. Felix sighs against his friend's shoulder --friend? Hadn't he been the one to make fun of Sylvain for calling them _friends_ recently?-- and appreciates the fact that both of them are alive and safe. In pain, perhaps, but alive enough to feel it. Alive enough that it's only an annoyance. Alive enough to stand in the middle of camp after a hasty retreat, surrounded by people milling about and definitely not staring at the Fraldarius heir and the Gautier heir hold each other as if they're not in the most public place possible in a war camp.

"...er, Felix? Sylvain?"

They both look up and swivel at exactly the same moment, and Dimitri's single eye blinks at them in alarm before he settles down. Felix doesn't step away, and Sylvain doesn't pull his hand back.

"I, um. Simply wanted to ensure the two of you were okay," Dimitri explains, although it's obvious that he's feeling more and more intrusive by the second. "It seems you are both doing well."

"Yeah," is all Felix says. Sylvain doesn't even answer.

"Right! Okay. I will, um, speak to Celeste, I was told he was requesting my presence-"

Dimitri cuts himself off mid-sentence, turns on his heel, and takes off in a manner that Felix can only describe as a dignified flee.

"Dummy," Sylvain mutters under his breath. "As if he'd need Celeste's requesting to talk to him."

"He'll get it eventually," Felix sighs, and turns his attention back to Sylvain. "But I believe maybe we should have a talk soon, as well."

"After you get the rest of your arm fixed."

On one hand, Felix could accuse Sylvain of trying to sidestep the subject. But the other hand is attached to an arm and shoulder that are indeed still in an amount of pain that Felix can't quite ignore, so maybe Sylvain has a point.

"Fine. Healing, and then talk," Felix tells Sylvain, and Sylvain, to prove that he isn't taking the opportunity to make a break for it, plants a kiss on Felix's cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sssssssssssssssssorry for the Dimitri/oc that snuck in at the end I'm just big love for my boy rn


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One final risky act of heroism, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly different from the other two chapters, but not too much. Also they have conversation they said they were gonna have.

"Sylvain!" Felix calls out, but Sylvain is already ready; he comes in at a canter, slowing down enough without stopping so that Felix can hoist himself up on the horse's back. They take off at full speed toward their destination, the demonic beast tearing through a Kingdom battalion. Those are not unskilled men, and the sheer power behind the beast's attacks sends a shudder of fear through both of them.

If that demonic beast advances forward, it will be on a direct path to Mercedes and then Dimitri. They're in the process of making themselves scarce, Mercedes grouping up with another healer's battalion and Dimitri pushing himself further into the fight without overextending to stay out of the beast's sight. For some reason the demonic beasts in this battle have been beelining for him upon sight, as if they know exactly who they need to kill to win. It's a coincidence, maybe something to do with crests and crest stones, but...

"You're up," Sylvain tells Felix. He can ponder the exact complexities around the formation of demonic beasts later, preferably when he's not about to engage one in battle. He feels two hands grip his shoulders tightly, and then a weight as they push down and he slows his horse to a more manageable speed as Felix moves one knee up onto the horses' back. He keeps one hand on Sylvain's shoulder, the other having unsheathed his sword that had been stowed away earlier. This is completely crazy, but he knows that Felix did not practice trying to stand up on the back of a moving horse for nothing. The sheer size of the demonic beasts coupled with the knowledge of how to best dispatch them had led to them at least giving the completely wild idea a shot, and while they hadn't had any demonic beasts to practice on, per se...

Well. They're going to survive trying, die trying, or die not trying. Sylvain wonders when both he and Felix became so damn reckless.

The approaching horse catches the demonic beasts's attention, and it lets out a roar before taking off towards Sylvain and Felix. Maybe they are attracted to individuals with crests, given how quickly it had lost interest in the soldiers engaging it literally seconds before, but it's not as if that's a theory that can be properly tested. Felix keeps his balance miraculously atop the horse's back, sword ready.

"Get me closer," he says. Sylvain makes a noise somewhere between disbelief and agreement.

The beast nears rapidly; Felix snarls at it in response to a bellow it sends at them. The distance closes, further and further, and for a brief moment Felix considers telling Sylvain to pull back, that this is a terrible idea and that Sylvain is going to get crushed underfoot even if Felix does manage to get to the demonic beast. But Sylvain does not show any sign of faltering, keeps his horse moving forward, and Felix realizes that he can't stop now either. This had been an inevitable end from the moment they watched a demonic beast plow through a whole row of men during their first direct engagement with one, see exactly how much damage one could cause.

"Get ready to move!" Sylvain shouts, his head starting to duck down in preparation. "You don't have much of a window-"

"I am well aware!" Felix snaps back. The demonic beast's mouth opens, teeth clearly visible without its helmet covering its face. Sylvain continues to charge forward, unflinching.

He pulls back, hard, on the reins with the demonic beast mere feet away. He whacks his heel into the side of his horse, clamps his arms around its neck as best as he can, and holds tight as it digs its hooves into the dirt and _bucks_.

It's not a pleasant experience. Sylvain has been bucked off of plenty of horses in his life, and the lurching flip that his stomach does every single time is present this time, too. But there's also the fear for Felix that makes him almost nauseous, and as soon as the first buck happens Sylvain reaches out and yanks to the side with his hand on the horse's bit, turning it and sending it bolting out of the way of the demonic beast. He feels bad about using an animal's fear like this, but it's what's going to keep both of them alive and he'll be giving his horse plenty of carrots after this for being so damn agreeable. He keeps pulling, turning it into a circle, and when they're facing forward again he dares to look up.

Felix didn't think about anything when he was launched off of the back of the horse. He had planted his feet, pushed off in time with the horse's movement, and dug his sword into the side of the creature's neck and held on for dear life. He doesn't have much of anywhere to grab for purchase, and he's being shaken off right now, but his sword stays firmly embedded in the demonic beast's flesh. Just as he thought it would, it lowers its neck to the ground and tries to drag its head against the ground to dislodge Felix, and just as the ground comes up to meet him and he's about to be crushed between the earth and the demonic beast's head, he lets go of his sword, and goes tumbling into the grass.

He finds his footing quickly, because he needs to run.

Sylvain watches Felix fall from the demonic beast and land heavily in the dirt. He scrambles up and Sylvain is already preparing a spell when Felix is halfway to his feet. Electricity crackles in the air, and Sylvain lets the power build further and further until he hears Felix's shout.

"KILL IT!"

Whether or not this will actually kill the demonic beast is a different issue entirely, but Sylvain doesn't need to be told twice. If this won't, then he'll gore it to death himself.

The lightning bolt that strikes the demonic beast passes through the sword first; Sylvain can tell because of the odd arc that it makes between leaving his hands and the actual impact. But most importantly, the bolt passes through his head in its path, and the demonic beast slumps to the ground in a daze as its body is shocked. There must be some semblance of a brain or a heart in them, enough that electricity can affect it beyond burns and the side effects of having internal organs charred to a crisp. Or maybe it's enough to affect what hold the crest stone has on its body.

Whatever. Sylvain doesn't want to think about it too much right now.

"It's not dead!" he shouts, and kicks his horse forward once more, scythe in hand. But before he even reaches the demonic beast, it's dead; the remnants of the battalion of earlier have not abandoned their post, and Sylvain pulls back when he watches every soldier plunge their weapon into the demonic beast's head all at once. His horse whinnies in complain and rears back, but doesn't buck.

Felix watches the anger that drives the surviving battalion soldiers as they take their revenge. Blades sink in once, twice, thrice, until the massive beast's body stops moving.

"That was a very stupid move," he manages to say out loud, despite still struggling to even out his breath.

* * *

"That was the least intelligent thing we've ever done," Sylvain says, and Felix doesn't give a response to it because quite frankly, it's true.

Felix has a sprained wrist and Sylvain has pulled something in his thigh, which he hadn't felt until he had tried to dismount and fallen onto the ground when his leg locked up. Currently, Felix is watching Sylvain try to massage out the knot there without much success, his armor off half-removed with both of them sitting on the floor of Sylvain's tent. For a moment, Felix, wonders if maybe he should offer to help. Isn't that what's expected at times like these, when someone you care about needs assistance?

"Sylvain-"

"It's fine, I promise. Ow, ow ow. I give up, this isn't coming out any time soon."

He flops backwards onto the floor, arms flying out in spread eagle to take up as much space as possible. He probably would have done the same with his legs, if one wasn't in pain at the moment. Felix sighs and scoots away to avoid having his own person space intruded on.

"...let me try," Felix says, finally. He supposes that if Sylvain can deal with falling off of his horse multiple times, then he can deal with Felix pushing a little too hard on a muscle strain once. "You're hesitating too much. You need to put more pressure on it than that to work the muscle loose."

Felix puts his hand on Sylvain's thigh, which gets him a grin from Sylvain and the feeling that maybe offering was a massive mistake from the back of his brain.

"Putting your hands on me before we've even talked about what we are? Naughty," Sylvain laughs, and ducks when Felix takes a swipe at his head with his palm.

"Shut up!"

...but actually, Sylvain is right. It's been a week since they said that they would have their talk, and then... well, the war took precedence, obviously. One battle, and then the next, and then preparations for yet another, and then they had landed themselves in a situation where Felix was jumping off of Sylvain's horse to take down a demonic beast. So no, there had not been time to speak to each other for a long and private enough length that a discussion of that caliber would require.

("Do it sooner than later, because I have a running bet I need to win," Celeste had told Felix last week, and Felix only had the heart to somewhat pretend he was absolutely affronted because he may or may not have a running bet regarding how soon Celeste and Dimitri would actually talk about their feelings. Which may be never, Felix despairs, having misjudged Celeste as a man with more social adeptness than himself.)

"Felix? I was kidding," Sylvain says, and Felix realizes he's been glaring with his hand on Sylvain's thigh still. He quickly pulls back his hand and neutralizes his expression.

"Right."

"If, uh, you want to, you can try."

That's as close to Sylvain asking as he's going to get; Felix has noticed that he has not gotten any better at reaching out for help in these past five years. Fear that he's going to be used, fear of having anything leveraged against him, fear of losing independence? Felix has his theories, and he knows of what kind of... personal problems that Sylvain has. The simultaneous upside and downside of having a childhood friend as your whatever-they-are partner, having all of your stupid lifetime secrets known to them. It goes both ways.

Felix puts his hand on Sylvain's thigh, searching for the knot in the muscle with his thumbs.

"Tell me where. I can't find it through feeling," he tells Sylvain, and he's expecting a stall tactic in the form of an inappropriate joke in response that doesn't come.

"A little lower."

"Here?"

"No, a little more- hang on it's right here."

Sylvain nudges Felix's hand away and presses two fingers against his inner thigh.

"Lie down on your side. I can't get proper leverage if you're sitting up."

"Mm'kay."

Sylvain goes down without complaint, shifting onto his side and pulling his right leg back to give Felix enough space. He watches from the floor as Felix scoots closer and sits sideways next to Sylvain and turns his body to press his thumbs into the spot Sylvain had pointed out. As he pushes, he feels something catch against his touch, and click as it slips.

"Ow. Yeah, that," Sylvain says.

"Less pressure? I have to push hard to get this out."

"No, it's bearable. I'll tell you if it gets too much."

So Felix continues to massage, pushing against the knot silently while Sylvain grunts in pain occasionally against the pressure. Gradually, though, Sylvain starts to relax, and while Felix has his eyes at his hands, he still watches for any change in his friend's expression.

That word again, friend. Is that what they are? Childhood friends? It certainly isn't wrong; his father, for all that Felix has despised him, had once told him that love was an extension of friendship, and that without friendship, one could not truly love another. He had taken it to heart, believed it to be true. His parents were indeed friends, their marriage arranged as it was as almost all nobles. They had learned to be friends, perhaps, or maybe they had already been friendly in the first place. Had his father known his mother the way that Felix knew Sylvain?

He imagines his mother and father as children, screaming and tearing through the courtyard of the Fraldarius home. The very thought of his parents having ever been children is mind-boggling.

"Ow ow, okay stop," Sylvain says suddenly, and Felix immediately stills his hands.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, that was just a bit much. I think you got most of it out though."

Felix can still feel the tightness of the muscles in Sylvain's leg, but rest will likely heal what remains. Sylvain rolls onto his back and sighs exaggeratedly, hand on his thigh right above where Felix's hand still lays.

"I'm really tired, but can we talk?" Sylvain asks, his eyes closed. He looks genuinely exhausted, likely not helped by the pain in his leg and the wild stunt the two of them had pulled (and the resulting intense chastising by the professor).

"We can when you're less tired."

"No, then we'll run out of time."

The urgency in Sylvain's voice is unmistakable. Time is indeed potentially running out, every single day in this war.

"We can speak in the morning."

"No."

Felix closes his eyes too, and while he knows there's a grimace on his face it isn't directed at Sylvain. Because he's right, they truly do not have time. They had spent the last week attempting to have a conversation they had both promised and earnestly wanted to have. Felix doesn't want to think about death cutting into this before they've had a chance to settle it. Even if one (or both) of them should die a mere day after, that would be far preferable to never having it in the first place. Today's close call must be setting Sylvain on edge, and if Felix is honest with himself (which he has been, a little bit more, these days), it is to him as well.

"...so."

"So."

"..."

"...what do we do now?"

Sylvain asking such a question catches Felix off guard. He's the one who's had countless girlfriends! What on earth does Sylvain mean, "what do we do now?"

"Well!" Sylvain replies to Felix's baffled demand. "I'm... What do you want to do? What do you want? I don't know if you don't tell me, right?"

"What are we doing what about?" Felix asks. "What is happening here?"

"That's what I'm asking you!" Sylvain shoots back, sitting up immediately with a look of exasperation on his face that he definitely does not deserve to wear right now. "As in- what do you want us to be? What is it you're looking for in this? Because I don't mind if you don't want this to be anything, if we're just friends and we like each other a lot and that's just how it is, or-"

His face suddenly turns almost as red as his hair, and Felix has to suppress a laugh at how fast his blush spreads across his skin.

"Or?" Felix urges him on.

"Or- y'know... boyfriends?"

For someone who has flirted outrageously and endlessly for years with women, Sylvain has no right to be this embarrassed by saying a word like that.

"Is that what you want?" Felix asks.

"I'm- I'm asking you!"

"Then let me ask you in return, before I answer that question. What do you want this to be?"

Felix is... not sure what in the name of Seiros he is doing right now. He expected this discussion to be painful and at a snail's pace, because he knows himself and this is not the kind of talk he ever envisioned himself having or wanted to have. But it's Sylvain, and fuck, this might actually be something decent for once happening in Felix's life beyond getting a good hit in battle, and in the grand scale of life Sylvain definitely weighs much more than knocking an Imperial knight onto their ass.

"I... I want whatever you want."

"That is incredibly unhelpful and nebulous to everyone including yourself, considering that I have yet to tell you want I want," Felix points out.

"That's not what I mean! I mean, as in, however much you want, I'm fine with that! Just, as long as you're around, I'll be happy," Sylvain blurts out, leaning forward with his arms supporting his upper body. He pulls himself closer so that his legs are still stretched out but his face is closer to Felix, and the movement forces Felix to let go of Sylvain's leg. "Happy?"

"No? That doesn't answer my question at all."

"It should!"

"It answers the question of whether or not you will respect whatever my answer will be. You don't 'want' whatever I want. I will ask again, and on Seiros, Gautier, if you tell me 'whatever you want' I will get up and leave and we will not finish this conversation."

A most dangerous threat. Sylvain knows that Felix is serious. He squeezes his eyes shut as if in pain, exhales harshly through his nose, and flops down onto the floor with his face next to Felix's outer thigh.

"...I don't really know what I want."

"Oh?"

"Don't make fun of me."

"I wasn't. This isn't the time for such."

Sylvain gives Felix an odd look.

"Who are you and what did you do to my best friend?"

"Sylvain, shut up and answer the question."

"Ugh, fine. I don't know, okay? I really don't know if it's just that I like you the same as I have before and I don't know how to react the right way to anyone liking me as a person, or if I have a crush on you all of a sudden for whatever reason, or if I'm in love and this is actually what you're supposed to feel like when you're in love. It could be any of those, and I just really don't know."

He turns his head and presses his forehead against Felix's thigh.

"...I really just don't know. I like you a lot, Felix. I just don't know what kind of 'like' that is."

"Hm," is all Felix says, because really, that's all he has. It's not as if he can climb into Sylvain's brain and give him proper definitions of what it is that he's feeling. How _does_ one differentiate love and friendship? Where is the line drawn? "If you're so unsure now, we can have this conversation another day."

"Felix, I thought we already went over this. We really, really can't."

"Is there a point to having it when you don't know how to answer my questions?" Felix retorts back. "This is a waste of time if that's the case. Come back when you have an answer for me."

"Felix!"

Sylvain pulls himself upright and glares; Felix's brow furrows right back at him.

"We're having this conversation right now, because tomorrow we'll end up in another stupid demonic beast's face and one of us might not be around to have this conversation!" Sylvain hisses at him. "Who cares if I'm not sure? I'm just trying to talk to you!"

Felix rubs his bridge of his nose.

"We can't come to a conclusion without both of us being sure," he points out.

"And are you sure, Felix?"

The discussion comes to a complete and utter halt. Felix can practically hear the sound of hooves digging into dirt.

"Don't look at me like that," Felix scoffs, and turns away. "I'm- Fine, I'm not sure either. But at least I know what I want to do about that."

"And that is?"

"Figure out whatever the hell this is."

"Wasn't that the point of this talk?"

"No, the point of this talk was to tell each other what we're feeling. Now we know that neither of us knows."

As productive of a conversation as ever, Felix thinks. At the very least they're on the same page of uncertainty.

"So... then what?"

A good question. What now? Felix certainly doesn't know, and Sylvain looks more like he's looking for an answer than ready to supply one.

"What is the first word that you would think to call me?" Felix asks.

"A friend?"

"Then we're friends."

"That's... that's it?"

"We're friends, for now," Felix continues, and shrugs his shoulders as if it's the simplest explanation in the world. It is, really. "We are friends. We have been friends for a long time."

"And, at some point, if we ever figure out what we're feeling... maybe something different?"

"The option is not closed off if we don't take it today, Sylvain."

"Yeah... yeah I know. Fuck, this really does mean we have to _talk_ again."

It should not surprise either of them that this is the case. Sylvain should know better than to think that they can have a conversation about relationships and figure everything out in the span of thirty minutes, especially not when neither of them know whatever the hell it is they're feeling. It's confusing, but Sylvain likes Felix, he knows that much, knows that his childhood promise with Felix still stands true at this very moment.

"Felix?"

"Yes?"

"I... I like you. I like you a lot. I just want to make that clear," Sylvain says, and puts his face in his hands. "On the Goddess, I like you a lot and I don't know what kind of 'like' that is but I know I feel a lot of it."

Two hands pry away Sylvain's, and he's forced to look back at Felix. Felix, who is holding both of his wrists in the gentlest touch he has ever felt. Felix, who looks him in the eye despite the uncertain hesitation on his face.

"I know," Felix replies simply. "I... feel the same way."

A big fat mess of baffling and nebulous feeling, but it's a good one and it's a lot of it. Again, at least they know that they're standing in the same spot, even if they don't know where that spot is, precisely.

"So, what do we do?" Sylvain asks.

"Nothing different."

"What?"

"Listen to me when I'm talking," Felix chastises, and smacks Sylvain in the side of the head lightly. "We don't do anything different than we have. There isn't anything we need to change, and we won't figure anything out by acting any differently than we have been."

"I mean... I've kind of wanted to do something different, sometimes," Sylvain admits. "Like... I dunno, holding your hand?"

"You've wanted to hold my hand." It's not a question, it's a statement. Sylvain nods.

"Yeah, but y'know, that's. Weird."

Is it? Sylvain has held Felix's hand plenty of times, and perhaps those times had been as children, but... well, what is it about adulthood that seems to tear away all of the good things that exist between people, anyway? To hell with it all, Felix thinks; if he wants to hold his friend's hand, he will. He's capable of it.

"...if you want to, you can. Hold my hand, that is. If you ask."

"Yeah?"

"Don't do anything because you feel like you should," Felix adds, turning back to Sylvain to speak. "If you... if you want to hold my hand, and it isn't because you think you should because of how you feel, then. Yes. You may. Actions born of obligation create insincerity."

It's... surprisingly sound advice. Coming from Felix, of all people.

"I'll ask again, who are you and what have you done to Felix Hugo Fraldarius?" Sylvain asks, which earns him another light smack.

* * *

"Thanks for earning me an easy dinner," Celeste tells Sylvain as he slides into the seat across with his lunch in hand. Sylvain promptly chokes on his tea.

"What?" he asks once he's done spluttering, which Celeste has waited as patiently as can be. The sweet smile on his face is in complete contrast to the true personality under all of that formality that Sylvain knows for a fact is under there. Damn bastard.

"You and Felix had your talk, I won a bet and enough money to have a nice dinner in town," Celeste explains, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly in that way that Sylvain has come to learn indicates that Celeste thinks he's having to repeat himself for no good reason. "All the best to the two of you."

"I'm not going to ask how you figured that out, but I'm not telling you what we talked about."

"I'm not asking! I'm making an observation, is all."

"You're being annoying," Sylvain says, and Celeste has the audacity to simply shrug at him and dig his fork into what looks like Gautier gratin. "...since when have you eaten cheese?"

"Since I was five years old. Don't act as if the Asagao Margravate is somehow cut off from the rest of Faerghus so much that we have no idea what the rest of the kingdom eats," Celeste replies tersely.

"You've complained about how much cheese we use. Wait, isn't that one of His Highness's favori-"

"And what if it is?"

Sylvain wonders if he's going to lose his bet with Felix regarding a certain healer and lance-wielder. He'd been the one to bet that it would take longer, while Felix had bet for a swifter resolution to the matter.

Speaking of Felix, here he comes now. His own food on a tray, glancing around the room as if searching for someone or something. He makes eye contact with Sylvain, who gives a smile and a little wave in response, and immediately his pace picks up to approach.

"Sylvain, Celeste," he says to the both of them, before setting into the seat next to Sylvain. His hand pauses for a moment and lays flat on the table, moves toward his fork, moves back to the table, and then lays directly on top of Sylvain's. He doesn't move it. Sylvain doesn't move his.

"What's up?" Sylvain asks as casually as he possibly can with Felix's hand on top of his in the middle of lunch. Felix's face turns even redder than it already had gotten a moment ago.

"Your collective blood pressure, is my guess," comes the most annoying voice in existence from across the table. Neither of them give Celeste the satisfaction of even looking at him. "Happy to see the two of you happy."

He sounds earnest, not a single teasing note to his tone, but Sylvain is a proud, stubborn man, and continues to ignore the healer. Felix does exactly the same.

"Well, goodbye gentlemen, I'm not going to interrupt any further."

The damn bastard has the audacity to actually get up and leave as if he's doing them a favor. Sylvain and Felix watch him go, and feel a shared surge of vindication as Celeste is almost knocked sideways by Hilda excitedly running up to him for a reason that they're too far out of earshot to hear.

"Your cousin is really, really annoying," Sylvain tells Felix.

"He's not my cousin, he's further removed than that. His mother and my mother are cousins," Felix corrects him, closing his eyes and sighing with a sharp angling of his brows. "Anyway. Don't mind me."

"Never have, never will," Sylvain lies, and flips his hand upside down under Felix's so that he can lace their fingers together.


End file.
